"SALMAGUNDI"
Washington Irving returned to New York, quite restored to health; and
there he soon became a social hero. Trips to Europe were so uncommon
in those days that to have made one was a distinction in itself.
Besides, Irving was now a polished young gentleman, very fond of
amusement; and having become a lawyer with little to do, he made up
his mind to enjoy himself.
He and his brother Peter, with a number of young men about the same
age, called themselves "the nine worthies," or the "lads of Kilkenny,"
and many a gay time they had together,--rather too gay, some people
thought. One of their favorite resorts was an old family mansion,
which had descended from a deceased uncle to one of the nine lads. It
was on the banks of the Passaic river, about a mile from Newark, New
Jersey. It was full of antique furniture, and the walls were adorned
with old family portraits. The place was in charge of an old man and
his wife and a negro boy, who were the sole occupants, except when the
nine would sally forth from New York and enliven its solitudes with
their madcap pranks and orgies.
"'Who would have thought," said Irving at the age of sixty-three to
another of those nine lads, "that we should ever have lived to be two
such respectable old gentlemen!"
About this time Irving and a friend named James K. Paulding proposed
to start a paper, to be called "Salmagundi." It was an imitation of
Addison's _Spectator_, and consisted of light, humorous essays, most
of them making fun of the fads and fancies of New York life in those
days. The numbers were published from a week to a month apart, and
were continued for about a year.
The young men had no idea of making money by the venture, for they
were then well-to-do; but to their surprise it proved a great success,
and the publisher is said to have made ten or fifteen thousand dollars
out of it. He afterwards paid the editors four hundred dollars each.
Irving now visited Philadelphia, Boston, and other places. He thought
of trying for a government office, and was tempted into politics. His
description of his experience is amusing enough.
"Before the third day was expired, I was as deep in mud and politics
as ever a moderate gentleman would wish to be; and I drank beer with
the multitude; and I talked handbill-fashion with the demagogues, and
I shook hands with the mob--whom my heart abhorreth. 'Tis true, for
the two first days I maintained my coolness and indifference.... But
the third day--ah! then came the tug of war. My patriotism all at once
blazed forth, and I determined to save my country! O, my friend, I
have been in such holes and corners; such filthy nooks, sweep offices,
and oyster cellars!"
He closes by saying that this saving one's country is such a sickening
business that he wants no more of it.